


In Silence Surrender

by Jaysop



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Established Relationship, Food Poisoning, Fresh Meat Friday, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Originally posted on 22 Oct 2014, Sick!Hannibal, Sickfic, Slow Burn, comforting!Will - Freeform, loosely based on season 1, trigger warning for vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaysop/pseuds/Jaysop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will begrudgingly accompanies Hannibal to a dinner party. When the night takes an unexpected turn, Hannibal learns a lesson in giving up control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Silence Surrender

“Could you explain one more time _why_ I agreed to this?” Will Graham twisted uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Hannibal Lecter’s car. Not to say that the roomy interior of Hannibal’s Bentley wasn’t the epitome of luxury with it’s all leather interior and sleek contours. As usual, Will was stuck inside his own head, and his thoughts raced in every direction like a quiet storm.

Will had dressed up for the occasion; it was an out of character if not necessary evil. The cheap ill fitting suit felt restricting, the tie around his neck closing in like the grip of fingers. He slipped his thumb behind the knot and swallowed hard. 

“Think of it as part of your therapy.” Hannibal‘s voice soothed like honey.

“This coming from the man that is and isn’t my psychiatrist,” Will scoffed. “And how is a dinner party akin to therapy? Humor me on this.”

“It is a lesson in restraint, Will. Like exposure therapy, you must face what feels uncomfortable head on in order to recover fully.”

 Will was still fidgeting with his tie, and finally in an exaggerated movement like a man trying to free himself from a straight jacket he undid the knot and pulled it off tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor.

“So I mention to you that I’m uncomfortable with crowds and you think I should spend my Saturday night trapped with 50 or so of your socialite friends.” Will undid the top button of his starched collared shirt in a vain attempt to quell the choking sensation that had settled in his throat.  “I’m not seeing the benefit here…except for your own amusement at the expense of my misery.”

Hannibal was staring straight ahead at the road, as always the epitome of calm and poise, but Will thought he caught a glimpse of a smile creep into the corner of his lips, only for a moment, in between the lights of passing traffic.

“I don’t consider any of the people you will meet tonight to be my friends,” Hannibal said giving Will a small glance from behind the wheel.  Will huffed and rolled his eyes. Hannibal switched on the car stereo and soon the soft notes of Chopin’s opus being flawlessly executed on a baby grand piano played lightly in the background, Hannibal’s passive attempt to calm Will’s frayed nerves.

“Then what am I? Your friend? Your _date_?” Will’s agitation continued to rise despite the lithe music that filled the little pauses in their conversation.

“The later if you prefer it,” Hannibal cooed.

Hannibal certainly preferred it, Will mused. It was true they had been together on more than one occasion, some of what he considered to be his weaker moments. The allure of the man had overcome his better judgment, and if Will was being real with himself he knew his judgment would lapse again. It was inevitable. Hannibal was like a bad habit, and since Will didn’t have any other vices, albeit the occasional drink and perhaps downing too many painkillers for a man of his small stature, he could deal with Hannibal being his one and only crutch.

Scattered streetlights played across Hannibal’s angular features, bathing his profile in shadow, making those impossibly high cheekbones seem even more severe. Will marveled again at the sheer beauty of the man, always the picture of refinement, charm, and stability. It was that stability that had drawn Will to him, that solid strength that had made him so desirable, like a drowning man desires air in his lungs.

He smoothed his own unruly curls unsuccessfully and sighed.

“I’d _prefer_ to arrive late and leave early,” Will mumbled shifting in his seat.

“We are running a bit late if not fashionably so,” Hannibal said glancing at his expensive watch. “You need not worry, Will.  I will be by your side the entire night. If it begins to be too much for you just say the word and we will leave.”

Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s thigh connecting them for a moment, the weight of it reassuring and protective if not the slightest bit possessive. The car slowed as they reached the entrance drive to their destination, a long and sprawling road lined with ornamental conifer trees, backlit with tiny track lights that dotted the ground every so often, throwing shadows out across the pavement.

“We are nearly there.” Hannibal’s voice was low and soothing. He pulled off onto the shoulder and shifted the car into park leaving the engine humming. Will was sweating lightly even though Hannibal had been sure to turn the air on low for the duration of the ride, mindful of Will’s comfort. He reached down and retrieved the discarded tie from the floor boards and popped up Will’s collar before sliding the fabric in place.

“It makes me very happy to have you with me tonight,” Hannibal said as his nimble fingers looped Will’s cheap polyester tie into a perfect double Windsor knot. “I know how hard this must be for you and I appreciate the sacrifice you have made to accompany me.”

“You make me sound like a martyr,” Will said his gaze drawn to the slender hands that loosened the knot just enough to provide comfort. Those same hands grazed the side of Will’s face, gently forcing him to meet the older man’s eyes.  Hannibal’s expressions were so subtle that most people would miss the genuine affection that lived there, just below the inky fathoms of his eyes. Will swam in them for a moment, almost hypnotized by their endless depth. He found himself wondering what he might find at the bottom.

Hannibal said nothing. One of the qualities that Will had immediately found fascinating about him was that he always chose his words carefully and knew when none were needed. Perhaps it was Will’s heightened sense of empathy that Hannibal had picked up on in the beginning that allowed them to share such silence. Will found those moments calming and he was thankful that Hannibal understood their importance.

Hannibal was lost for a moment himself at the sight of Will beside him, obviously miserable but tolerating this… for him. His lips curved into a thin smile.  He already planned on repaying Will later for his generosity.

~~~

If the drive to approach the mansion was any indication of the grandeur that awaited them, it could not have prepared Will for the overwhelming immensity of the place. The architecture was ornate and sprawling, landscaped meticulously, overlooking numerous acres of woodland.

Inside the lighting was low and Will was thankful for that; a migraine threatening to emerge was waiting just behind his eyes.  Hannibal mingled seamlessly with the party’s patrons being caught every so often by someone who recognized him and pulled him aside. Will would nod his introduction but for the most part kept silent unless he was spoken to, nursing a glass of champagne that had been offered to him off a silver platter when they had entered.

A string quartet played at the center of the great room, adding to the elegance and splendor of the place. Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Why had he agreed to this? The din of voices as the guests milled about was too much for his overloaded senses. He could feel his anxiety rising, a cold sweat breaking out over his forehead. It was second nature now, a defense mechanism of sorts, to block it all out. He knew Hannibal would say he wasn’t dealing with his feelings, but he needed a moment to catch his breath.

When Will opened his eyes he was at home, the dogs lazily sleeping around his feet. The silence was only interrupted by the gentle tapping of rain on the roof, by Winston’s collar jingling as he stretched out on the floor. Will could finally breathe. He swallowed hard and noticed the drink in his hand, a thin champagne flute he didn’t own. He stared at it absently for a moment and then took a sip. It was good, light and almost sweet, probably expensive, and definitely something he wouldn’t have bought. Will was aware that this wasn’t real but at the same time the longer it went on the more disorientated he became. It was a double edged sword. He felt panic creeping into his chest. Wasn’t he just in the middle of something? And hadn’t Hannibal been with him? He stared into the glass and the sparkling liquid inside became murky, its shade slowly darkening until it was a thick crimson. Will screwed his eyes shut trying to focus.

When he opened his eyes again he was back in the great room but the guests had departed and he was alone. The place was even more immense now that it was empty. Will tried to shake the distinct feeling that he was lost. He looked down at the glass in his hands and swirled around its grizzly contents.

And suddenly, he felt eyes on him.

He turned to see a woman dressed in an off the shoulder evening gown in a deep shade of blue descending the stairs. Her movements were fluid and deliberate. She was looking at Will, making eye contact with him. Her blonde hair fell in torrents on her bare shoulders bouncing lightly as she took each graceful step.

“It’s not polite to stare Will,” Hannibal’s voice snapped the curtain back and Will’s head was reeling as the sounds and sights of the party came crashing back in a thunderous rush. He reached out for something stable and found Hannibal’s arm.

“My apologies,” He said to the couple who must have approached while Will was still out, “my friend does not indulge in drink often. Are you alright Will?” Hannibal was fully aware of what had just happened inside the confines of Will’s mind. He knew Will had not been present for the past few minutes and he was covering for him. Will cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I’m fine…fine…” Will stuttered, the words catching in his throat. “I just need some air.”

“If you will excuse us,” Hannibal politely nodded his leave and led Will by the arm out into the courtyard. Will took a shaky breathe of the cool night air, his eyes adjusting to the dark.

“You left me for a moment,” Hannibal said quietly, making sure that only Will could hear him. They were alone there with the exception of a few guests who had come outside to puff cigars, smoke billowing up white against the night sky. Will stared into his drink before setting it down.

“I’m alright now,” Will said his voice still wavering slightly. “Could use another drink.”

“Where did you go just then?” Hannibal asked guiding Will to sit with him on a cement garden bench.

“Home,” Will mumbled trying to regain his composure. “And then I was here… and there was a woman…she was watching me.”

Hannibal was intrigued, Will had blocked out the stimuli that was obviously overwhelming his senses, but someone got through.

“The lady of the house,” Hannibal said, calming Will with a hand at his back, tenderly rubbing circles in his shoulders, “and the benefactor of the feast.”

“So she was real…” Will rubbed his eyes, a dull ache beginning to grow behind them.

“Yes, quite real,” Hannibal soothed. Anyone else would have missed the meaning behind his words, but Will’s empathy allowed him to miss nothing. He squinted at Hannibal, reading him to be sure of his assumption.

“How do you two know each other?” Hannibal paused choosing his words carefully.

“It was a lifetime ago, Will, while I was studying abroad. Our relationship was purely professional.” As usual Hannibal revealed very little about his past to Will, who silently wished sometimes he would respond to his questions with more than a vague answer.

“Hmm. So why do I get the feeling your relationship was about as professional as ours is?” Will was grasping at straws but the subtle tell he received in return revealed he was right as Hannibal glanced quickly around them making sure their conversation wasn’t being overheard.

“As always, dear Will, you miss nothing.”

Will snorted a laugh realizing that the woman on the stairs had been staring at Hannibal the entire time, not him. Hannibal smoothed the front of his vest and checked his cuff links, the most reaction Will was going to get out of him.

“Come, you should get something to eat,” Hannibal coaxed.

Will was imagining Hannibal fully engaged in the act of lovemaking with their blonde hostess. He shook off the fantasy and stood, grabbing Hannibal’s arm again for balance.

“Unless you prefer we take out leave…”

“No…no… I wouldn’t want to stop my therapy now that I’m making such progress.” Will offered a sly smile and followed the doctor back inside.

Hannibal strode into the room, long graceful steps, as if he belonged there, with Will following on his heels, being sure to avoid eye contact and zeroing in on a tray of long stemmed wine glasses as it passed near him. He made sure to pick a nice clear chardonnay, avoiding the dark red wines that accompanied it, emptying half its contents on his first gulp.

“Hannibal, mon cher, you're here!” Their hostess’ voice lilted above the music, like a melody all its own. Hannibal graciously took her hand, raising it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“Tu es magnifique comme toujours,” Hannibal crooned. Will hated it when Hannibal slipped into one of the many other languages he knew. For someone so concerned with politeness and etiquette, Will found it even more insulting when Hannibal purposely excluded him from the conversation. Lucky for Will he had spent the better part of his childhood in the bayous of Louisiana, and although his French Creole was a bit rusty it provided enough reference; Hannibal’s tone and body language filled in the rest.

“Et tu es toujours un véritable gentleman,” She returned her eyes sparkling. Will could see now that she was a bit older than he had thought at first glance, still devastatingly beautiful but closer to Hannibal’s age than his own.

“And your friend, you must introduce me,” She purred. Hannibal took a step back and nodded.

“This is William, a colleague of mine,” The woman took Will’s hand. Her skin was white as a porcelain doll’s and just as cold.

“Pleased to meet you William, I am Claudia,” She said her voice soft and sweet, a slight accent rolling off her words.

“Hannibal has talked so much about you,” Will lied eyeing the doctor, hoping to make him even the slightest bit uncomfortable in retaliation of Will’s own misery at having to be there.

“Oh my, all good things I hope,” Claudia laughed.

“But of course,” Hannibal added, suave and unshakable as ever.

“So are you a patron of the psychiatric arts as well, William?” Claudia asked trying to make conversation.

“Me? No, no…” Will stuttered “I work with the FBI as a consultant… and I teach at Quantico.”

“Ah, very admirable. My husband is a physician, thus how I met Hannibal. They used to work together.”  A couple guests caught Claudia’s attention and she graciously bowed out of the conversation.

“If you will excuse me,” she said turning to go to them, blonde curls bouncing against her long thin neck. “And Hannibal, Marcus requested your company before you go.”

Hannibal nodded as she floated away from them. Will had a growing smile on his face.

“Nice to meet you William!” Claudia said over her shoulder as she walked away.

“It was a pleasure,” Will said. He turned to Hannibal who was for once avoiding eye contact. Will chuckled under his breath at Hannibal’s obvious adulterous transgression.

“It was a long time ago,” Hannibal said, his voice breaking just slightly under that stone exterior.

“So you’ve said,” Will was grinning and maybe just the slightest bit tipsy as he caught his third glass of wine from a passing tray, spilling just a small bit in the process.

“We were very young, and she was not yet married, only just newly engaged,” Hannibal back peddled. Will snorted loudly into his drink.

 If anyone had been watching them just then it was becoming more and more comical to see how oddly they paired together; polished Hannibal in his stately three piece suit, and Will, already wrinkled, his hair becoming more disheveled by the minute, a rosy glow beginning to creep into his cheeks the more he drank. Will was beginning to finally enjoy himself, now that he knew he had succeeded in making Hannibal uncomfortable. Will could relax a little now that they were on an even playing field.

“Not to worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Will whispered, patting Hannibal on the back roughly.

Hannibal swallowed the remaining champagne in his glass. Will’s thoughts wandered to Claudia and Hannibal in various states of undress, Hannibal’s hair out of place and falling over his eyes, his breathe coming in short gasps, and Claudia’s pale white breasts exposed and perfect as her china doll hands that’s were leaving long red welts down the length of  Hannibal’s muscular back.

“We have made our appearance, Will. We can go any time you like,” Hannibal said calmly but, obviously to Will, trying to regain his control over the situation. Will finished his drink.

“Oh, but we must give Marcus a visit first,” Will said before taking another glass which was tasting better and better to him the more he had. Hannibal stretched his shoulders back and took a deep breath.

~~~

When they entered the drawing room the doors were shut behind them, blocking out the din of the party. Marcus was wheel chair bound, a detail Hannibal hadn’t mentioned. Will had become accustomed to Hannibal not mentioning details.

A fire crackled invitingly in a large stone fireplace at the end of the room, and a place setting for two had been made in anticipation of their arrival set atop a table made from an irregular slab cut of oak, imposing and beautiful just like everything else in the house. The man in the wheel chair was much older than Hannibal, grey interspersed in his raven black hair. For someone bound to a wheel chair Will thought he seemed so strong and virile, a large man who would have been about Hannibal’s height if not taller if he stood. He turned from the fire as they entered.

“Marcus,” Hannibal approached him taking his hand, “it has been too long.”

“Bonjor, Hannibal,” Marcus said his voice a deep baritone. “Claudia mentioned she had invited you. I am glad to see you are well. Please excuse me if I don’t get up,” Both men chuckled.

Even in his current state of inebriation, working on his forth glass of wine, Will’s empathy picked up something.  He wasn’t sure what exactly, the alcohol beginning to dull his normally laser accurate senses. Hannibal introduced Will and they sat down at the table together, Will refusing the food that was put in front of him but graciously accepting the cut crystal glass of fine cognac that was offered.  Hannibal, who had abstained from eating all day in anticipation of the dinner party, found he was quite hungry when the food was finally bought in.

Course after course graced the table and then was cleared away, Will sipping at his drink as Hannibal indulged in what he had made a point of telling Will was the “finest French cuisine.” Will picked at some bread if only to sop up the alcohol in his stomach. He rather liked observing Hannibal for once, watching as the two men reminisced and joked with each other. Will knew he was probably staring and made a point to avert his eyes to the floor every now and then, but it was a rare treat to witness Hannibal’s smile and Will couldn’t help but indulge himself. Marcus refilled his glass and Will silently hoped he could stand when the meal was finished.

As the last course was cleared away Hannibal was actually feeling quite stuffed, a hand coming to rest on his full and now slightly curving stomach. When Marcus offered them what appeared to be an authentic hand rolled Cuban cigar, both men accepted graciously, Hannibal hoping it might settle his stomach and Will thinking perhaps it would sober him up.

The three settled in front of the fire, Marcus piling a few more logs on top of the burning embers and expertly arranging them with the heavy metal poker that he handled with ease. Again Will picked up on something. Was it aggression? Anger? The easy smile that played across Marcus’ face as he clipped the end of his cigar and lit it said neither. All Will could read was contentment. Satisfaction. Perhaps happiness. But there was a dark undercurrent just below the surface, of that Will was certain.

“So you help the FBI catch killers, Will?” Marcus asked leaning back in his chair, a long plume of fragrant smoke encircling his face, the fire light dancing across his solid masculine features.

“I try to, yes,” Will clipped his cigar and lit it with the heavy silver torch lighter Marcus had handed him. The nicotine surged into his blood and he smiled contented if not relaxed for the first time that night.

“Then you must have a great sense of justice when they are caught. It must be a rewarding job, n'est-ce pas?” Hannibal had lit his cigar as well, but not before deeply inhaling it’s pleasant fragrance while unlit. He rarely indulged in the pleasures of smoking but tonight he would make an exception. The meal they had shared was still sitting heavy in his stomach. He took the first pull letting the smoke sit in his mouth, picking apart the subtleties of it aroma as he slowly exhaled.

“There are times when it can be,” Will responded his words slurring just slightly as he watched the fire dance. He sipped his cognac absently, the cigar lifting the weight of the alcohol off his chest.

“To be expected,” Marcus said taking another pull off his cigar. “I imagine it is maddening, when the guilty go free. You are a more patient man than I.”

“I’m learning to be." Will slumped against the leather wingback chair. “Dr. Lect…um…Hannibal has helped me with that. Without his insights I’m not sure I would have been so successful.”

Marcus refilled Will’s empty glass almost the instant he put it down having drained its contents again.  If Will’s reaction time hadn’t been so slowed he would have refused it. Instead he sipped at it slowly not wanting to show all his cards yet. Marcus was trying to get him good and drunk and he wanted to know why.

“Nonsense, Will,” Hannibal entered the conversation, “I merely offer the support of a friend, but I cannot take credit for your own brilliance.”

Will laughed, a genuine sounding if not drunken laugh. He knew there was always a hidden agenda inside of Hannibal’s complements. Even as drunk as he was, he could sense his endgame, one that would result with them both panting and sweating in the back of Hannibal’s Bentley. He laughed again, suddenly hoping that they could leave soon, the alcohol fueling his desire for the man.

~~~

The night dragged on from there for Will, Marcus almost grilling him with questions, their conversation becoming more and more one sided with every refill of his glass. The fire had burned low until all that remained were glowing coals that slowly shimmered and flashed their last breathes.

Hannibal had grown quiet, letting his cigar burn out in the large marble ash tray beside him. He felt strange, his face was beginning to burn hot, not from the fire or the alcohol, as he had not consumed more than he usually did in any given night. There was a tightness that churned in his gut. He could feel beads of cold sweat beginning to appear on his forehead. Something was very wrong.

Will was finishing his cognac, too good to be wasted he mused, but with a resolve that this would be his last glass. He was getting bored waiting for Marcus to get to whatever the point was.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure,” Will slurred, “But as much as I'm enjoying the riveting conversation...I do believe the good doctor and I should be making the long drive home.”

Marcus nodded his agreement as Will braced himself against the arm of his chair to stand. His attempt was sadly unsuccessful and he plopped back down in his seat. Will tried to steady himself not wanting to see Hannibal's reaction to his apparent lack of control. He glanced at the doctor, expecting to see an expression of disapproval. What he saw instead was Hannibal staring off into the distance, a pained expression on his face. Marcus’ lips had turned up into a satisfied smile. Will knew there was a reason he didn’t trust the man.

Will rose to his feet, perhaps a little too quickly, and the whole room pitched and swayed for a moment before coming back into focus. 

“Hannibal, are you alright?” Will was standing in front of him, a hand resting protectively on his shoulder. Hannibal shuddered as if he was suddenly cold but the sweat that dripped down the side of his face said otherwise. Will helped him to his feet and the older man hung onto him. He swallowed audibly.

“Excuse me Marcus...but I suddenly feel ill,” Hannibal choked on the words and for a moment Will thought he was about to throw up right there on Marcus’ expensive carpet.  Will had to grab Hannibal around the waist and lead him to the door.

“I’ve got ya,” Will said although he wasn’t sure he could support Hannibal’s full weight if he were to collapse, even if he had been completely sober.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, perhaps a little too much to drink,” Marcus’ voice boomed in Hannibal’s ears as they hastily left, making their way as discretely through the crowd as they could given the circumstances.

“I think…there was something in the food…”Hannibal leaned heavily on Will as they exited into the cool of the evening.

~~~

“You think Marcus poisoned you?” Hannibal had given up his keys to Will and was squirming uncomfortably in the passenger seat as Will fumbled with the mirrors adjusting them to his height before pulling away.

“I am _sure_ Marcus poisoned me,” Hannibal swallowed thickly, unbuttoning his vest and loosening his tie.  

“Should I be driving to the nearest hospital then?” Will said, the thought of Hannibal dying in the seat next to him instantly sobering him up.

“No, I don’t think he means to kill me…just to make me suffer…” When Will had made it far enough from the mansion he pulled off onto the shoulder under a solitary street light. This night would be far worse if somehow Will managed to wreck Hannibal’s car, and he felt a small sense of relief as he cut the engine off.

“How could he have possibly poisoned you….I mean…without you knowing? You’re like a bloodhound…you can tell what kind of soap I used three weeks ago…I don’t understand…”

Hannibal moaned in pain, a small sound that cut Will deep. Focusing all his attention on the man in the seat next to him, Will tucked Hannibal’s hair behind his ear, and brought a cool hand to the side of his face that was now flushed as if with fever. He helped him out of his jacket and vest in a vain and drunken attempt to make him more comfortable.

“You forget, Will, Marcus knows of my…abilities…he would have been mindful of it…when selecting his method of torture….” Hannibal’s arm was clutched protectively around his sour stomach.

“Let me help,” Will said gently. Hannibal’s breathing had become irregular and labored. He was swallowing almost convulsively. Will undid his tie and took it off and then loosened the top two buttons of his shirt. Hannibal moved his arm and allowed Will’s palm to rest on his stomach. He let out a small sound of discomfort.

“I have not been sick…in 12 years…”Hannibal said, his voice breathy. Will believed him.  Hannibal was meticulously careful with everything he ate. He always insisted on selecting and preparing his meals himself. As long as they had known each other he had never seen Hannibal with as much as a common cold.

Will could tell he was suffering now, fighting back hard against the inevitable. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hand had gripped Will’s own a bit tighter than was comfortable.

“Maybe…you should just…you know…get it out of your system,” Will offered. Hannibal swallowed harshly as a dizzying wave of nausea washed over him.

Will didn’t need empathy to feel the fear that surrounded Hannibal  like an aura. Could it be possible that he was actually scared of something? And had Will put the man on such a pedestal that the humanity that saturated him now seemed unnatural?

Will considered it for a moment and it all began to fall into place.

Marcus and Hannibal had a history, that was certain, one of which the details were a little sordid to say the least. It had become obvious that Marcus knew about the affair. And taking into account Hannibal’s love of food…it was really the perfect revenge. If Hannibal wasn’t so sick, Will mused, he would have appreciated the irony.

Will exited the car and stumbled awkwardly around to the passenger side door. When he opened it Hannibal stared up at him, an expression across his face that was utterly helpless. Will helped him out of the car and Hannibal clung to his side. Will could almost taste the acrid tang of fear coming off of him it was so strong. The stoic man whose emotions were usually so hard to pinpoint was laid completely transparent in front of Will’s eyes. It was humbling to say the least for Hannibal and unsettling to Will, who was still trying to come to terms with the idea that there were things even Hannibal had no control over.

Will said nothing. He knew words weren’t needed and Hannibal was grateful for the silence. They shuffled a short distance away and Hannibal dropped to his knees. Will sank to his knees as well, not sure what else to do.

Hannibal was shaking, and as much as he tried to force himself to be calm, panic lit up his veins like fire ants on the march. He didn’t want this. His whole life had been an exercise in control over his body and his mind, one that he was exceedingly proud of mastering. That type of self control was earned through years of discipline, and Hannibal had always considered it to be his strongest quality.

This was the most out of control Hannibal Lecter had been in a long, long time.

He would do anything right now not to give in. In that moment he said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t even believe in, desperate for any possible conclusion to the night that didn’t involve him emptying his stomach all over the pavement.

A hand was rubbing circles in between his shoulder blades. Will remained beside him trying to offer some comfort.  Hannibal felt a pang of guilt in his throat at forcing Will to come with him tonight. He wished his motives had been completely pure, but sadly they were mostly selfish reasons, reasons that Hannibal had never considered as selfish before now. But perhaps, he mused, all love is selfish in its own way.

He despised the feelings that washed over him now. He didn’t want to acknowledge them let along feel the full brunt of them. Giving up just a single facet of control was like stepping off a ledge and committing to the free fall that followed.  It was the catalyst for the walls inside his mind palace to begin to crumble. This was too much to bear in his weakened state. He gritted his teeth and a small whimper escaped his throat.

“Hey…it’s ok…I’m right here,” Will soothed.

Will was hoping this would be over soon. Everything about it was making him uneasy. Will found himself reconsidering the drive to the hospital although he didn’t have the slightest idea where they were. He had been so wrapped up in his own head on the way here that he hadn’t paid attention. That wasn't the only reason Will felt utterly lost; it was this sudden role reversal, the doctor becoming the patient, which left Will feeling completely helpless.

Another wave of nausea, the most intense one so far, hit Hannibal hard. He doubled over, his arm gripping tight across his stomach. He moaned louder this time as he felt bile begin to creep up his throat. Will put an arm around him, steadying him.  There was simply no way he could hold out much longer, Will decided.

“As a doctor, surely you understand what needs to happen,” Will said softly. Hannibal sucked in a deep breath trying to solidify his resolve. He would not give in. He would not.

Hannibal suddenly lurched forward and involuntary movements took over, his body making a decision for him. He gagged unproductively, coughing at the end, battling to get air back into his lungs.

“That’s it…” Will coaxed still rubbing his back. “I know it sucks but I’ll be right here with you.”

“Fucking Marcus…” Hannibal growled between gritted teeth before another heave caught him. This time a dribble of vomit splashed onto the pavement. Before he had time to think the smell and taste assaulted his finely tuned senses, and he retched violently, this time bringing up a copious amount. It splashed back onto Will’s knees and Hannibal’s pants.

Will held the hair out of his eyes as Hannibal gagged again, sending more vomit splattering onto the pavement.

“Kalės vaikas…” Hannibal muttered what Will assumed could only be an expletive in his native language. He sensed Hannibal was more pissed off than scared at this point. He had only moments to snatch a quick breath before he was gagging again, the spasms becoming relentless.

Will held him around the waist now, a flat palm on his stomach, the only thing preventing him from collapsing in his own sick. Every time he heaved, Will felt his abdominal muscles flutter against his fingers. It was taking all the strength Hannibal had to continue, not that he really had a choice.

When the retching finally turned to dry heaving and then stopped all together, Will pulled Hannibal back into his arms. The shivering hyperventilating mess he held there under the street light didn’t even resemble the man he knew. Will pulled him close against his chest and Hannibal went limp, utterly exhausted both mentally and physically. 

“It’s ok now, I think it’s over,” Will soothed, stroking the side of his face, pushing the damp hair away from his forehead.

In silence, Hannibal surrendered at that moment. He let his eyes close and tried to focus on Will’s beating heart against his temple, on Will’s rough hands carding through his hair.

Giving in felt better than he ever expected it to feel. Letting Will hold him felt safe. When the cold smooth fabric of a silk handkerchief, no doubt his own, begin to touch his face, it occurred to him that this was the most genuinely selfless gesture anyone had ever done for him. Tears that had been balancing at the corners of his eyes threatened to fall.

Will felt a clipped sigh against his chest; it was such a small sound but it carried weight with it. It sounded like surrender, like letting go. He gathered up the man in his arms trying to quell the panic, but feeling as lost as when Hannibal slipped into one of those other languages he knew. This language of wretchedness was like a dark pit that Will didn’t have the strength to pull them both out of. 

And Hannibal wept. He wept for his own suffering, for the suffering he had caused Will, and for the loneliness he had buried deep inside himself, now spilling out of the cracks made in the once impenetrable fortress of his mind. He felt everything at once, regret, sorrow, and love that he was sure he was unworthy of receiving. The emotions were too poignant, too visceral, and tears fell easily amidst racking sobs that were muffled only partially against Will’s chest.

Will knew this was more than just a reaction to being violently sick. He could sense the emotions, tangled and raw, rolling off of Hannibal. He could feel them like fingers around his neck making it hard to breathe. He could taste them in the back of his throat like bile. It was if he was seeing him for the first time, finally getting an unfiltered view of the man who had only recently lectured him on showing restraint. All he could do was ride it out with him until he quieted and the shaking stopped.

~~~

The ride home was longer than Will remembered. 

Perhaps it was because of the silence or the worry that sat like a rock in the pit of Will’s stomach as he drove through the night, trying to keep an eye on his speed, all the while keeping another eye on the man in the passenger seat who was curled almost in the fetal position, head resting against the window, shaky breath fogging against the glass.

“Will…” Hannibal’s voice startled him, hoarse and weak from his ordeal. Will didn’t need to hear any more and silently pulled off onto the shoulder, reaching across Hannibal to pop the door open.

Hannibal braced himself against the door frame, leaning as far out the door as he could before he retched. A few dribbles of black bile hung from his chin as involuntary tears tracked down his face. Will had grabbed a fistful of the back of his shirt, fearing that he was too weak to hold himself up. When it was over he collapsed back against the seat, panting heavily.

“Do you want to wait a minute?” Will asked, a hand resting on Hannibal’s knee, trying to gauge whether or not he was finished for the moment.

“No... I’m alright. Please…just…take me home…”

They came to Will’s house first, and considering the time of night, and not wanting to subject his passenger to any more time in the car than was absolutely necessary, Will decided to stop.

Will managed to wrestle Hannibal out of the car, and slowly they made their way inside, greeted by Will’s dogs that wagged and circled around them. Will let them all out, fearing they might upset Hannibal.

“It’s alright Will,” Hannibal managed. “I don’t mind your dogs…” he said sensing Will’s apprehension.

“That’s a lie,” Will said still shouldering most of Hannibal’s weight as they shuffled into the bedroom.

“I don’t mind them because I know they are important to you,” Hannibal said his voice nearly shredded. “Please don’t change your living arrangements on my account.”

Will rolled his eyes as he helped Hannibal sit down on the edge of the bed. He dropped the subject accepting Hannibal’s explanation but still knowing that the mere smell of the dogs, which Will was quite used to, was probably driving his houseguest to distraction.

A quick survey of the bedroom made Will study his shoes in embarrassment. There was Hannibal, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking wrecked and feeble, the sheets in total disarray hanging halfway to the floor, discarded pieces of clothing thrown where ever they had dropped, a half empty bottle of whiskey adorning the night table next to his bed. Will rarely had houseguests and even more rarely did they end up here. He never really felt the need to keep up on the house cleaning.

“Please excuse the mess…I’ll go get some fresh sheets from the close--” Hannibal cut him off.

“No, Will.  You’ve done enough,” he said toeing off his wing tip shoes. “Besides, they smell like you.”

They also smelled strongly of dog, Hannibal mused, but Will’s scent was there underneath, a comforting mix of the cheap soap and even cheaper after shave he used with the unmistakable undertones that only Hannibal could detect of Will himself. He knew when he laid back on the bed that the pillows would be saturated with it, the real scent of Will, his essence that Hannibal had fallen in love with when they first met.

Will rubbed his eyes ending with a pinch of the bridge of his nose and stifled a laugh. This was definitely _not_ how he had envisioned the first time Hannibal would be lying across his bed. It was such a sharp contrast to the times he had spent with the man in Hannibal’s home, lying sated amongst his 1000 thread count sheets, too opulent and elegant for Will’s own good he thought.

“Ok…well…at least let me help you out of those clothes…”

Hannibal complied wordlessly as Will unbuttoned his shirt slipping it off his broad shoulders. His hair fell over his eyes in disarray as he let Will undress him.

Will paused for a moment contemplating the words that were caught in the back of his throat.  Neither man had made mention of what was now a thousand pound elephant in the room.  Hannibal had broken down in front of Will. For a brief and terrible moment there was total clarity in the depths of his usually unreadable eyes and Will had caught a fleeting glimpse of something. It was as if he had been seeing Hannibal in black and white all this time and suddenly he was thrown into full color. It had been too much information for Will’s brain to process all at once. Even now something was different about the man. Will could feel it. He wanted to ask him about it. Instead he laid Hannibal’s soiled clothes across the back of a chair.

 “I could wash these for you in the morning.”

“Dry clean only I’m afraid,” Hannibal said his voice low and distant as he sank back into Will’s bed and buried his face in the pillows. He rolled onto his side and curled his knees to his chest. The nausea still lingered in the pit of his stomach and he let out a small moan.

Will was undressing now, the adrenaline of the night finally wearing off, allowing him to feel the effects of his overindulgence. His bare feet padded along the carpet into the bathroom where he filled a glass with water and drank half of it readily before popping a few aspirin. When he returned to the bedroom Hannibal was shivering there on his bed, hands clutching a pillow to his stomach.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Will asked gently as he retrieved the sheet from the floor, shaking it out and sending a cloud of dog hair into the air.

"There's no need…” Hannibal’s voice was muffled by the pillows he had buried his face in. Will spread the sheet over him, pulling it up around his shoulders protectively. He let his hand linger at the base of Hannibal’s neck. His touches did not go unnoticed and Hannibal let himself indulge for once in unadulterated human contact. He reached up to grab Will’s hand and pressed the flat of his palm against his cheek. Hannibal let his eyes close.

“Thank you for this.”

“Please…You don’t have to thank me,” Will said as he pulled away to retrieve a blanket from the hall closet. “You would have done the same for me.”

Hannibal contemplated that for a moment until Will returned with a heavy thermal blanket that he spread over him. It occurred to him that he couldn’t recall the last time he had let anyone get this close. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had cared for him like this either.

 Memories of his childhood came rushing back, vague images of his mother covering him with a blanket when he was sick with fever. Flashes of his little sister sitting on the edge of the bed, a look of confusion and worry in her cherub face as she held a cup of broth for him.

The visions were cut short as Will returned having let his dogs back in for the night. They settled quietly around them on the floor. They were a well behaved pack, Hannibal thought, and a testament to Will’s skillful training.

“You should drink some water. It might make you feel better.” Will offered the half full glass. Hannibal propped himself up and reached for the glass which Will held onto as his sipped from it, not trusting him not to spill it. After the first few sips Hannibal realized how thirsty he was and tipped the glass back decidedly forgetting to breathe in the process. When he had finished its contents he laid back against the pillows gasping for air.

“I knew something was off about Marcus,” Will said as he placed the glass on the night table. “I could have Jack investigate him. You could press charges.”

“Jack would find nothing,” Hannibal said between swallowing back the renewed feeling of nausea that sat like a rock in his stomach. “He’s much smarter than all of us.”

“I’m sure I could find something. I won’t let him get away with this.” Will sounded so protective, Hannibal mused. It was quite endearing if not the smallest bit naive.

“It’s alright Will,” Hannibal said trying in vain to move to a more upright position. “I’m sure I probably deserved it.”

 “No one deserves this.” Will sighed as he helped Hannibal sit up. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Hannibal didn’t answer. His eyes had gone wide as his hand flew to his mouth. Will searched the room frantically and grabbed the trash bin maneuvering it into Hannibal’s lap. Hannibal reluctantly removed the hand he had clasped over his mouth and all the water he had just finished drinking came back up in a violent and disgusting torrent. His head reeled from the exertion. Another heave and his head was in the bin again, this time ending with a painful sounding belch. His throat was burning, but his body still forced a third and forth heave until he was once again fully empty.

“I’m gonna take that as a no,” Will said taking the bin from him. Hannibal collapsed back into Will’s bed, his breath coming in short gasps.

“I’m so sorry, Will,” Hannibal’s voice was becoming slow and slurred as the inevitability of sleep crept over him, but his apology was genuine. His voice wavered with emotion that Will wasn’t used to hearing. Will climbed into bed next to him and Hannibal readily curled into his lap. Will's hands found their way into Hannibal’s disheveled hair and he began thread his fingers through, prompting Hannibal to close his eyes.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Will said as he pulled the blanket around Hannibal’s shoulders. He reached across them both and clicked off the table lamp. “Neither of us needs to be sorry.”

Hannibal inched closer to Will, snaking an arm around his waist. Will protectively curled over him, not planning on sleeping, but intent on keeping vigil, although he felt the draw of unconsciousness beginning to drag him under despite his efforts. He pulled Hannibal closer and was rewarded with the sound of a long heavy sigh. As his breathing started to even out, Will struggled to keep his eyes open, the rise and fall of Hannibal’s chest guiding him to sleep.

~~~

_He was running, tiny boots getting caught in deep snow like quick sand, panicked breath coming too fast, frigid air burning in his lungs. He thought for a moment that his heart might burst out of his chest with the effort. Even as the snow soaked through his clothing he kept running, oblivious to the cold._

_At the end of the clearing a line of trees provided some cover. Making his way through the brush was far more difficult. His clothing kept getting snagged on branches leaving bits of torn fabric in his wake. One misstep and he fell to his knees hard, a sharp pain shooting up his leg._

_He raised himself up on elbows wiping away a face full of snow. His hands came away red. There was so much blood. It congealed around him and suddenly the slush was all turned crimson. It was still warm._

_And then the sound of bone tearing from sinew, the pop of a dislocated socket joint, a barbaric sound that shook him to the pit of his stomach. He could hear men laughing, the crackle of a fire, the faint smell of roasting meat as it began to cook mingled with the burning hickory of the firewood._

_He didn’t dare open his eyes._

_The sounds grew louder and it didn’t matter anymore how hard he screwed his eyes shut. The aroma of seared flesh overpowered his senses until he could see her, pieces of her, floating up to the surface. The sounds as bits of bone were being spit into a metal bucket resounded in his head, each landing with a hollow clink that was as loud as a gunshot._

A series of strangled sounds pulled Will from his sleep. It took him a few long seconds to collect himself, at first being startled at the sight of someone sleeping beside him. Then upon realizing who that someone was, it took him a few more seconds to remember the previous night. He rubbed his eyes trying to decide whether or not he was actually awake. The pain in his head assured him that this was reality. The heat radiating off the man next to him as he stirred fitfully in his sleep reaffirmed it.

Hannibal was dreaming. His eyes fluttered under lids darkened with fatigue.  Every now and then his muscles tensed slightly and he mumbled something that sounded like pleading in a language Will couldn’t decipher. No one was better versed in the language of nightmares than Will, but he still struggled with whether or not to wake him. He sat up and shook off the covers placing a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder.

“Hannibal…” Will whispered in the dark. “Hannibal…wake up…” He shook him gently trying to free him from his mental prison.

Hannibal flinched away from the contact and his eyes flew open, a look of sheer terror settled in his features. He bolted up and backed away against the wall, arms defensively covering his face. He was drenched in sweat and breathing much too fast for someone that had been asleep only moments ago. Will felt suddenly that he was looking into a mirror reflecting his worst nights back at him, the only difference being that he wasn’t alone this time.

“Hey….hey….it’s just me…you’re in my house remember?” Will tried to soothe him. There was no recognition in Hannibal’s eyes yet, only disorientation and panic. Will wondered what demons the doctor had buried in his psyche to cause the reaction of complete horror that gripped him.

 “You’re in Wolf Trap…I took you home. You were sick…”

Will tried to get through but Hannibal only stared past him, through him, as if he was watching something play out in front of his eyes that Will couldn’t see, something that was reserved only for Hannibal to experience. Will was well versed in this sort of thing too; he just never imagined Hannibal shared this much in common with him.

“Hannibal…” Will was on his knees in front of him and he reached out to touch the side of his face but Hannibal shied away from him like an abused dog. Will backed away and gave him some space like he would any one of his strays. He waited for his breathing to slow a bit before he spoke again.

“It’s ok…it wasn’t real….it was just a nightmare…” Hannibal made eye contact finally and Will smiled up at him as if he had just come back from the dead. The first thing Hannibal saw as he emerged from those painful visions was Will’s eyes staring back at him, a look of complete relief swimming in them. That look was reserved for him alone. “You’re here with me. You’re safe.”

“Will…” Hannibal rasped.

Will approached him, and for the second time that night Hannibal fell apart. Will let him collapse into his arms. He didn’t ask questions even though he had so many. He knew if Hannibal wanted to talk about it he would, and if he didn’t no amount of prying would change his silence. As he held him there in the darkness Will could feel their relationship changing, evolving into something more. Although he didn’t have much to fill in the details with, Will felt now more than ever that there was a deep understanding growing between them, a bond of misery and empathy that tied them to each other inexorably.

Hannibal buried his face in the crook of Will’s neck, breathing him in, reassuring himself that he was real.  He felt as if someone had opened up his chest while he slept, cracking apart ribs to expose his inner workings. The events of the night were irreversible and like it or not Hannibal had let Will into this sacred space of his nightmares.  He had lowered his mask and let Will glimpse the true nature of him. He silently hoped Will had not seen too much.

“I feel sick,” Hannibal managed to say. Will rubbed his back up and down, doubtful of whether he had anything left to give up.

“Well, I’m no doctor but I’m pretty sure you’re dehydrated,” Will said not quite knowing what to do. “I think I might have some peppermint tea in the kitchen.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Will,” Hannibal choked out. He tried to collect himself and swallowed his embarrassment as he sniffed back tears. Will released him, searching his face for answers. He sensed shame, abject sadness, and a gratefulness that Hannibal began to hide as he pushed the hair from his face, slowly pulling the mask back on. Will watched it happen; he could see the struggle. Hannibal wanted to let him in, but something was holding him back.

“I’m gonna go find that tea,” Will said. Hannibal cringed slightly at the thought of swallowing anything but allowed Will to leave and venture out into the kitchen. His dreamscapes lingered in his mind’s eye, flashing images that made his stomach turn over. Reluctantly he sat up and pulled the bin between his knees.  His head reeled as he changed position. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind and lock the memories away back where they belonged. As he filled his lungs he became aware that his ribs felt bruised and tender. The pain was sharp and sickening. He pulled the bin closer just in case.

Will returned entirely too fast to have actually boiled water. Hannibal raised his eyes to a drowsy Will, his eyes only half open, disheveled hair smushed up on one side, holding a steaming cup of obviously microwaved tea. Normally Hannibal would have admonished Will’s lack of effort in the kitchen, but instead he took it gratefully in both hands. Will sat beside him, the mattress dipping under the weight of two people.

Hannibal took a deep breath of the soothing peppermint vapor and held it in his lungs, which honestly was all he intended on doing until the tea cooled considerably. It was more comforting at the moment to know that Will had cared enough to make it for him.

“Thank you, Will.”

Will yawned and laid a heavy head on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal knew Will wanted to know what dreams had caused such a visceral reaction from him. He was curious to a fault, a quality that Hannibal had always admired about him. There were few people besides himself that could be so relentless. He took another deep breath of the pleasant steam that rose from his cup and tried to think of anything other than the painful memories.

“When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago,” Hannibal said his composure solidifying in front of Will’s eyes, as he blew across the top of his cup.

“Are you quoting Nietzsche to me,” Will stopped to glance at the glowing red numbers of his bedside clock, “at 4 in the morning?” Will found himself smiling. He let out a little sigh of relief, knowing that this was a sign at least that maybe the worst was over.

“It seemed to fit the circumstance,” Hannibal said his voice still hoarse. Will let out a short laugh and laid an arm across Hannibal’s broad shoulders and kissed his temple.

“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness,” Will said, almost absently, quoting the same existentialist again. Hannibal laughed and the sound was striking in the silence, a beautiful melodic sound, which was more genuine than any words that they had exchanged.

“I want nothing more than to be lost in that madness with you.”

Will found himself locked in the hypnotic depth of Hannibal’s eyes as he straightened up to meet them. They looked tired but still held an intensity that Will couldn’t break away from. They held secrets that even now were being buried deeper and deeper below the surface, just out of reach.

“Only if you let me,” Will found himself saying, never lowering his gaze, searching those eyes for answers.

“Will…I’m afraid there are some roads that should be left untraveled,” Hannibal broke eye contact and took Will’s hand in his.

“Wouldn’t it be better….”Will began as he interlaced their fingers, “to travel them together? To not have to go alone anymore?”

Hannibal set the still steaming cup on the end table and pulled Will back onto the bed with him. “I’m not alone.”

Will laid his head against Hannibal’s chest until he could hear the gentle thump of his heartbeat in his ears. He let his fingers play along the curving landscape of exposed skin trailing over each rib until he ended at Hannibal’s stomach.

“I dream I am the monster I hunt,” Will said, offering up what he hoped would be a trade of information.

“And you want to know what I dream about…” Hannibal trailed off, his hands lingering in Will’s unruly curls.

“If you want to talk about it…you know…maybe it would help.” Hannibal laughed again, a sound that Will never tired of hearing.

“Is that your professional opinion?” Hannibal asked. Will nodded his affirmation. “Why ruin a perfectly good evening with talk of such things.” The sarcasm was palpable.

“You’re deflecting, doctor.”

“I am?” Hannibal said feigning ignorance. He slid down under the covers and pulled Will into an embrace.

“In my professional opinion, yes,” Will said stifling a yawn and stretching out comfortably across Hannibal’s chest. The two laid there in silence for a moment, Will acclimating his own breath to the steady rise and fall of Hannibal’s lungs.

“I dreamt…of the past,” Hannibal said his voice cutting through the silence. Will hadn’t expected any type of answer, but even a vague one was better than nothing. “I dreamt of memories that I would rather not recall.”

Will propped himself up on an elbow so he could look at Hannibal. Even shrouded in darkness Will could sense he was telling the truth and that it cut him deep.

“Hannibal, I’m so sorry,” Will said suddenly feeling like an idiot. “This is none of my business. You’ve been through enough tonight without me making you uncomfortable.”

Hannibal pulled Will closer, and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. He focused on Will’s warmth against his body and tried to distance himself from the hollow churning in the pit of his stomach.

Outside it began to rain softly like whispers murmuring against the rooftop. The white noise was lulling them both back to sleep, coaxing Will to close his eyes. Hannibal laid awake still feeling sick and exhausted, but fighting the need to sleep for fear of where his dreams might take him. He watched Will drift off, his breath beginning to even out, and his body becoming relaxed and heavy against Hannibal’s chest. Before long Will was snoring lightly, and Hannibal couldn’t help but smile as he watched him sleep.

How had this happened, this union of two minds, this bond that Hannibal seemed to have no control over? The way he felt about Will both excited and terrified him. He suddenly wished he could tell him everything, spilling his thoughts out into the open, freeing him from this solitary lifestyle of which he had become so accustomed to. The silence in the room spread over them like being underwater. Hannibal felt like he was floating inside the uncertainty, unsure of which direction to swim to the surface. He knew Will wasn’t ready, and might never be ready to hear the truth, and that alone solidified his resolved to stay silent, for fear of losing what he had worked so hard to keep. Loosing Will would be devastating. Hannibal didn’t even want to consider it.

Will stretched out in his sleep, working his chin into the crook of Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal kissed him again lightly and Will stirred almost waking.

“Promise you’ll stay…” Hannibal whispered. Will took a deep breath and settled back into unconsciousness unaware of the words. Hannibal pulled the blanket across his back and let his eyes close, just for a moment.

~~~

When Will woke up daylight was streaming through the window, entirely too bright for his alcohol addled brain. He squinted at the night table and fumbled for his glasses. The red letters on the clock slowly came into focus. It was past noon. Hannibal, as well as Will’s dogs, were nowhere to be found.

Will got up and shuffled into the bathroom. He had the distinct feeling that his tongue was somehow glued to the roof of his mouth. After relieving himself he turned the sink on and let the water run cold before drinking some from the faucet. He splashed his face and ran his wet hands through his hair.

The sound of barking from outside told him someone had let his dogs out. Will took a long look in the mirror. In its reflection he saw that Hannibal had neatly hung his suit over the back of the door. He was startled by the not too distant sounds of a tea kettle whistling for a moment before someone removed it from the stove. Will found it reassuring that Hannibal hadn’t left while he was still asleep. He also found himself strongly debating whether or not he owned a tea kettle.

In the kitchen Hannibal was pouring steaming hot water into two waiting mugs. Will emerged in the doorway, looking no worse for wear than usual, but definitely feeling the effects of a hangover. The doctor had borrowed some of Will’s clothes; a pair of baggy gray sweat pants that were sadly two inches too short on him and a threadbare white undershirt that hugged tightly to every curve of his torso. He had thrown Will’s bathrobe across his broad shoulders for warmth as well. Will smiled despite himself at the sight of Hannibal cheerily making breakfast in his kitchen, as if he belonged there.

He had laid out a plate of lightly browned toast, orange marmalade, and a butter knife, the only provisions he could find that seemed even the slightest bit edible. It wasn’t his normal morning fare but Hannibal didn’t feel much like eating after the previous night’s events anyway.

“Morning…” Will sat down in front of the steaming cup of brewing tea and wrapped his hands around it warming them.

“Good morning, Will.” Hannibal sat the kettle back on the stove and pulled out a chair. “I hope you don’t mind I borrowed some clothes. It was quite cold earlier and--”

“Stop, of course I don’t mind,” Will said cutting him off and taking a tentative sip of the warm beverage Hannibal had made for him. It was orange pekoe, nothing special really, but Hannibal had used honey to sweeten it and Will thought it felt heavenly on his parched throat. “You didn’t have to make all this, really,” He took another sip of tea and relished in the feeling of warmth as it traveled down his chest, “but thank you, it’s wonderful.”

“It’s the least I could do, after what I put you through,” Hannibal said his voice a bit sullen. There was gratefulness in his eyes but Will sensed embarrassment as well, and something else...remorse? Will took a piece of dry toast and opened the jar of marmalade, knife in hand.

“If I had to relive the whole thing,” Will said as he met Hannibal’s eyes, “I would still go with you. You know this.”

Hannibal tilted his head, a small quirk Will noticed he did when something struck him in conversation. He sipped his tea and looked back at Will with those same sullen eyes. “Why?”

Will laughed into his cup before setting it down. “Because…I think I’m starting to fall for you, Doctor Lecter. Isn’t it obvious?”

Hannibal smiled and it was genuine, not the subtle smile that he sometimes did out of politeness, not a forced reaction to conversation that he really didn’t find interesting, but real happiness shone on his face. He didn’t even realize he was doing it, letting the mask fall, emotionally exposing himself again. It was becoming more and more natural for Will to glean these little reactions out of him, and in spite of himself, he no longer cared about restraining them.

Hannibal reached for Will’s hand. He was warm as always even though the morning had come with a strong chill in the air. Will reacted by blushing slightly and staring down into his cup as if something interesting had just happened there.

“And what do you think should be done about this?” Hannibal asked his demeanor softening. Will adjusted his glasses and smiled into his cup. Hannibal got up from the table and stood behind Will, strong hands massaging into his shoulders. Will relaxed and let his head dip forward. He could feel Hannibal’s breath warm against his neck.

“You’re changing the subject to distract me…” Will said as the doctor worked his thumbs into Will’s shoulder blades, releasing the tension he didn’t even know was there.

“Don’t we deserve a distraction, Will?” Hannibal hands wandered lower until he was between Will’s thighs, skillful fingers touching him lightly through the thin fabric of his boxers. Will’s breath hitched in his throat as Hannibal began to caress him. Will awkwardly craned his neck around to find Hannibal’s lips warm and waiting. The dogs barked from outside but neither man noticed. Before Will knew what was happening, he was following Hannibal back to his bedroom.

Will’s thoughts quickly dissolved into a simple longing to be loved and needed until that was all that was left. When they were together it was unlike any relationship Will had ever had or would ever have. He accepted it for what it was and resolved himself to indulge in the pure emotion of it. Nothing else mattered but the feeling of skin on skin contact, the warm heady breath that Hannibal exhaled across his neck, and the knowledge that this was the closest Will would ever be to another human being.

He kissed Hannibal back with equal intensity and soon his hips were pressed tightly against the other man’s. Wordlessly, Hannibal stripped him of his boxers and kicked off the sweatpants he had borrowed to the bottom of the bed. Tender skin pressed together and Will let out a short gasp.

This time was different.

There was urgency in Hannibal’s caresses, a need to escape into Will’s arms that overpowered his senses. Hannibal was drunk with want as he tasted every inch of Will’s skin. He kissed along his collarbone and up his neck, Will arching his back and closing his eyes, lost in the pleasure. Hannibal worked his way up, pausing over his jugular vein as Will’s pulse beat heavy against his tongue.

Will opened his eyes and caught Hannibal’s gaze for a moment before reaching down to take them both into the palm of his hand. Will watched as Hannibal’s eyes fluttered shut and a delightful moan escaped his lips, when he began to stroke them in tandem. Hannibal dug his fingers into Will’s back as he began to thrust into his fist.

“Will…” Hannibal said, his tone breathy. He reached between them and grabbed Will’s hand breaking the contact. Hannibal’s grasp tightened around Will’s wrist as he rolled onto his back, forcing Will to reposition himself across his lap. “Please…”

Hearing Hannibal plead with him sent an ache through his body. “Are you sure?” Will asked a bit apprehensive.

“Completely.” Hannibal’s voice was low but steady. Will leaned down to kiss him again searching his eyes for permission as he pulled away.

“Please, Will,” Hannibal begged again.

Slowly, Will sank into the heat of Hannibal’s body, pulling all kinds of delicious sounds from Hannibal’s lips. He stayed there buried and still for a moment. It felt better than Will ever imagined, being so close, so connected to someone.

Carefully Will began to move his hips, deep circular lazy undulations that sent Hannibal’s eyes rolling back in his head. To have Will fill him so completely left him breathless. It left him dizzy and almost sick with want. Will began to stroke him against his stomach, and Hannibal clenched his muscles as every touch left him shaking. Hannibal wondered how Will could know exactly how to touch him, precisely how to give him what he needed. It was more than just empathy as if they were two parts of the same mind, once split apart in a dissociative haze, finally melding back together again to form a whole.

Will took his time, not wanting to lose the connection. He could tell Hannibal was getting close, his breath was ragged and he was pushing up against Will, deepening each thrust, making it difficult for Will to keep his composure. Hannibal’s hair fell haphazardly in his eyes as he slowly came undone, beads of sweat breaking down his chest. The fatigue of the previous evening crumbled Will’s resolve and he quickened his pace, still drinking in the sight before him, burning it into his memory.

Hannibal let out a loud cry as he came across the top of Will’s fingers. His body tightened around Will, pushing him over the edge. Will held his breath and bit his lip hard until he tasted the metallic tang of blood. Release overpowered him blurring his vision for a moment. Will collapsed heavy against Hannibal’s chest, sprawling over him as the aftershocks buzzed through his body like electricity. He closed his eyes, heart still racing, breath ragged.

Will stirred as Hannibal touched his bottom lip.

“You’re bleeding Will,” he said. Will reached up and his hand came away crimson. Hannibal took his wrist and slowly brought Will’s fingers to his lips. Will felt Hannibal’s tongue search out every last drop before he released him.

Will felt an encompassing calmness wash over him, not wanting to think about much, for once attaining a sort of transcendental blankness of the mind, in which he could be still. Hannibal had given this gift to him, and he watched over him now, the taste of blood still lingering on his tongue, the thought that Will was his alone repeating in his mind.

~~~


End file.
